


A Different Kind of Normal

by MiteyMidget



Category: The Vampire Diaries - L. J. Smith
Genre: F/M, M/M, OT3, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:52:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiteyMidget/pseuds/MiteyMidget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elena Gilbert is back from the dead with no choice but to leave the only place she's ever called home. She and Stefan set out to make a new life with each other, but at the back of her mind Elena knows something's missing. Someone is missing. - spoilers for the books up to the end of Dark Reunion</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Kind of Normal

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the 2010 tvd_bigbang on LJ, but I dropped out when I didn't get an artist claim. It was the only book 'verse fic written for the challenge, I'm not sure that any of the other participants were familiar with the books. Oh well. Here it is in all it's glory.
> 
> I'm not entirely happy with the ending, but at the time I was writing with a deadline and now I just can't be bothered. T.T

There's a lot of crying when they finally leave Fells Church, but really, what other choice is there? Elena's been dead six months and half the town still thinks Stefan had something to do with it. 

She, Bonnie and Meredith just stand there for a few minutes, arms plastered around one another in a three person hug. Bonnie's sobbing into Elena's shoulder and even calm and collected Meredith has silent tears streaming down her face. 

Sniffling, Elena pulls away. "We'll visit," she promises. "You're going to college soon. I'll visit you at your dorms and we'll eat junk food and have girly pillow fights and talk about boys."

Matt, standing off to the side, looks somewhat interested. Like any teenage boy his age, a girls dorm and pillow fights bring about ideas that are less than innocent. Elena grins at him and he ducks his head, embarrassed. Good old Matt. She's going to miss him, too.

Bonnie smiles wetly. "You won't want to talk about _boys_ , Elena. You have Stefan."

"But you might," Elena shrugs. It's probably true. After Stefan, and even Damon, Elena doesn't think she'll ever be able to appreciate a normal boy again. It doesn't mean she's not up for a little girl talk.

"There are other things beside men," Meredith says, putting an emphasis on the word 'men.'

That's right. Meredith's still seeing Alaric, and Elena feels another a pang that she missed six whole months of her best friends lives and now she's leaving before she's gotten the chance to get fully caught up. She understands why she's leaving, and they understand, but there's a very big part of her that mourns this necessity. Fells Church is _home_. Maybe, before, she'd been bored of a small town life, but she'd always been Elena Gilbert, a big fish in a small pond. It's a little frightening to realize that, compared to all of the other fish in the world, she's barely even average.

Before she can start crying again in earnest, Matt swoops in for a big, warm hug of his own. Elena really does love Matt. He's strong and sturdy and just so nice. He’s exactly what every parent wishes for in a prospective son in-law. With time, Elena might have really fallen in love with Matt, and it would probably have been good. Nothing compared to her and Stefan, but they could have been happy.

She’s sad that she can’t give him that, but not enough that she’d wish things could have gone differently. Besides, she’s seen the way Bonnie’s been eyeing the boy up and she suspects Matt won’t be missing her too long.

“Take care of Bonnie,” Elena whispers, just to nudge him a little. Matt nods into her hair and finally backs away. Even his eyes have gone a little bright.

Stefan moves forward, looking a little guilt ridden, like he thinks this is somehow his fault. It’s all kinds of ridiculous, but a very Stefan thing to do. He always takes on much too much of the responsibility for the things that have happened. In the coming months and years, Elena fully intends to try and fix this complex of his.

“We have to leave soon,” he says regretfully, “if we want to get very far before dark.”

“Oh, Stefan!” 

Bonnie’s suddenly hanging from around Stefan’s neck in a move that has even Stefan blinking. Elena giggles at the look on his face, the way his arms stay hanging limply at his side as Bonnie sniffles into his chest. Slowly, his arms come up to return the hug, and he settles his hands against the small girls back. His expression softens, and his lips turn up into a fond little smile. 

It’s a touching scene and Elena is very glad that Stefan and her friends have gotten the chance to become this close, even under the circumstances. The only thing missing is Damon.

The thought brings her up short. Where was Damon? He hasn’t been back, not since that night in the clearing. He’d just slipped off into the woods. Was he back to his old tricks, now that Elena was back and he no longer had to hold to his promise? Had she been able to fully heal him? Was he still hurting?

There’s no answer to any of those questions, not without Damon there to answer them for himself.

Sighing, Elena shakes off the worry, wanting to just enjoy these last few minutes with her nearest and dearest. Bonnie’s moved aside to make room for Meredith, who sticks out a determined hand. Stefan shakes it, looking much more comfortable with this than he had the hug. 

“Take care of her, or we’ll be coming after you,” Meredith tells him, looking deadly serious in the face of a centuries old vampire who could probably have her dead in the blink of an eye. But this is Meredith and Elena has no doubt that she could do some damage if she really put her mind to it.

Stefan doesn’t take offence, just nods solemnly. Meredith juts her chin in acknowledgement, seemingly satisfied. Apparently the understand each other. Elena wrinkles her nose at the sudden thought that this is almost like she’s being given away, like a father gives away her daughter at her wedding.

Before she can complain, Matt steps up and he and Stefan do an amusingly macho dance that involves a lot of shuffling and some manly pats. Elena is a little disappointed they don’t hug too, but she should probably just be grateful that they’re not at each other’s throats. Quite literally, all things considered.

As Matt gives Stefan another warning, Elena steps forward to give Bonnie one last hug and Meredith’s hands a tight squeeze. She’s going to miss this so much. She’s never gone so long without their support.

“I’ll write,” she promises thickly. “And I’ll call as soon as I can. Well, Stefan will call, so your parents don’t recognize my voice, but you get it right?”

There are murmurs of agreement and then they’re breaking apart and Stefan is leading her to the car, where she climbs in and fumbles with the buckle. Matt, Bonnie and Meredith watch the car from the front stoop of Mrs Flowers’ boarding house, and Elena waves at them from the passenger seat window as Stefan starts the car and then pulls out.

It’s only fitting that they should be the last view she has of Fells Church before they’re outside of the town limits.

***

“I’m gonna miss them,” Elena says morosely, sprawled out on her stomach on a motel bed, a TV blaring softly in front of her.

Stefan, sitting across the room on the other double bed – his idea, not hers, thank you very much – looks up from his book. “They’ll miss you, too, very much. However, I think everyone will sleep better knowing that this is a permanent goodbye this time.”

She pouts and cranes her neck to pout at him over her shoulder. “I know that. I do. I just... It feels like all of this is going too fast, you know? I just came back and all of a sudden we have to leave. And Aunt Judith and Margaret, they don’t get to know that I’ve come back.”

Stefan sets his book aside and gets up to join her, the springs of her mattress creaking under his weight. His green eyes are bright with compassion as he lays a gentle hand on her shoulder. “They can’t know consciously, but I’m sure that, in their hearts, they know you’re happy.”

It’s a nice thought and Elena really does appreciate the sentiment. She smiles and rolls over, pushing herself up to plant a kiss on his mouth. “Thank you,” she says.

He smiles back, sweet and happy, and she can’t help but lean forward and kiss him again. And again. The connection is still there between them, warm and reassuring. She revels in her presence, feeding off the joy he feels simply at having her with him. It’s not nearly as intense as sharing her blood might have been, but they haven’t quite worked up to that again. Stefan is ever the gentleman and wants to make sure she’s well recovered before doing something that might set them back. 

Not that Elena’s felt sick since she’s come back, but there’s no set of rules for someone who’s been resurrected. Or, at least none that they can realistically follow. They’re both treading light, even if Elena’s starting to chomp at the bit.

Regretfully, she pulls away and Stefan rests his forehead against hers, his breath fanning against her cheeks.

“You need to eat,” she tells him firmly and Stefan sighs and nods.

“There is a forest just a few kilometres from here big enough to support large game. Finding... nourishment shouldn’t be difficult.”

It’s illogical, but the metal image of Stefan standing over the bloody corpse of some helpless deer makes her squeamish in a way that having him feed from her does not. She remembers the blood lust and she remembers hunting with Damon, but the idea still makes her a little uncomfortable. It’s a part of being a vampire that she’s still coming to terms with. And considering he could be snacking at some other pretty girl’s neck, this is the much preferable option.

So, she pushes him out the door, telling his he’s gotten skinny (which he has,) and then settles in for a bit.

It’s not the first time Elena’s been alone since Klause’s defeat, but it’s not far off, either. There’d just always been someone around, and she doesn’t begrudge her friends that, but every girl needs a bit of privacy once in a while. Even just alone in the hotel room feels like an extravagance, and she’s plans on enjoying it while Stefan’s busy.

When she drops down onto her bed she plans on pulling out one of Stefan’s books or watching some mindless drivel on the TV that she’d been too embarrassed to put on with him in the room. Instead, Elena closes her eyes and is sleep before she can do much more than think over her options.

***

The days and miles start to run together pretty quickly, punctuated here and there by something new. Elena tries to call her friends every other day, but it`s not always possible. What there is plenty of time for, is Stefan. They`ve never spent much time together. They`d only been dating a few months before everything had gone topsy-turvy. The realization that she doesn`t really know Stefan that well is a little painful.

Before leaving Fells Church she knew what he was, and the bare bones of the story of how he got that way, but didn’t know any of his day-to-day quirks. Now she’s learning, and as happy of that fact as she is it’s a lot to get used to.

They don’t like the same music or hardly any of the same books. Stefan’s quiet and reserved and more than a little old-fashioned, which is all understandable and some of the things that she was attracted to in the first place, but so aggravating after hours of it. Elena is chirpy and blond and used to getting her own way. Selfish, she admits, and more than a little self-centred. She’s used to being the centre of attention, and suddenly being in a group of two she’s completely out of her element. Stefan still heaps on the compliments, but she’s used to holding court. Maybe she’d made a pariah of herself by sticking so closely with Stefan when everyone had been so suspicious of him, but that had been such a short time compared to the years she’d ruled.

If she’s a little snappy sometimes, she thinks it’s deserved. If Stefan goes quieter even than usual, distant and brooding, well, that’s his prerogative.

In between bouts of temper on both their parts, they learn a lot about one another. Elena’s favourite part of this trip was curling up with Stefan after a long day in the car, cajoling him into telling her stories. She loved hearing about his childhood and all about the distant places he’d been in the centuries since he’d been turned. How things had changed from era to era.

“I haven’t thought of some of these things in a very long while,” he confesses, in the middle of a story about his father. “I’ve tried not to remember them. The end of my human life was painful, and I suppose it overshadowed the happier times.”

“So did you and Damon ever get along,” Elena asks curiously, looking up at him as she toys with the curls of his thick, dark hair. It’s delightfully soft between her fingers.

Stefan pauses to give the question thought, his own fingers absently tracing little patterns against her bare arms that make her shiver. “There were times,” he tells her, his expression so far away. It makes her wonder how faded the memory must be, after so many centuries. How much does he even remember of his human life, besides the sad tale of its end? 

“There were times,” he continues, oblivious to her train of thought, “when he was protective. I think, as his little brother, he considered me as part of his property. He was the only one who could torment me, and when anyone else tried Damon would step in and defend me fiercely.”

Dawning understanding. “Like with Klause.”

The here and now floods back into Stefan’s eyes and his gaze turns back to her. “Not entirely. We spent a lot of time together in the months after your death, Elena. We made a promise and I intended to keep it. It was more time than we’d ever spent in each other’s company, even when we were human, and I think we understand each other a little better now.”

They’ve skirted the issue of her six month absence up until this point. Not because they were afraid to talk about it, but because there just hasn’t been enough time to hash it all out. Now that it’s been brought up Elena is gnawingly curious.

“What happened?” she asks, and then clarifies, “After I died, I mean. You and Damon were in Italy, and Bonnie called you back to Fells Church, I know that. But what else?”

“I followed Damon when he ran,” Stefan tells her, tone solemn. “He doesn’t deal well with grief, and I was worried what he would do to himself, and to others. What he felt for you was real, more real than what he felt for Katherine. Damon is most dangerous when he’s in pain. He lashes out. After I found him in Italy, I stayed to make sure that he was safe. I kept him from slipping up and causing suspicion.”

The admittance of Damon’s feelings for her makes Stefan scowl, but he doesn’t back away from it, doesn’t try to downplay them. Elena can see that it irks him, but he doesn’t lie about it. She snuggles closer to him, tucks herself against his solid frame, and thinks that this is one of the reasons she chose him. That a part of her still burns for Damon, but the rest of her belongs to Stefan because of the goodness in him.

She murmurs, “You’re a good brother, Stefan.”

Stefan drops a sweet, chaste kiss against her forehead, and then her nose, pulls her more tightly to him to nuzzle into her hair. “Only because you’ve made me a better person, sweetheart.”

***

They don’t stay anywhere for very long. They hop of town to town, only staying a few nights, a week at the most. She’s confused at first that they haven’t hit any of the big cities. Elena’s always dreamed of living some place like New York or Los Angeles and she’d been half hoping that one or the other would be their final destination. Stefan explains to her, though, that they’re sticking closer to the more rural communities because urban areas just aren’t feasible for a vampire whose sole source of nourishment is wildlife. 

Of course she tries to offer up her blood, but he's still leery of taking too much. Of draining her. There's a very fine line between life and death. A finer line between life and unlife. The way Stefan tells it, he's like a recovering alcoholic who's very close to falling off the wagon. She wants him to drink and he wants it, but he's too afraid of what will happen when he does.

It’s a disappointment, but she deals. For Stefan and this new life they have ahead of them she makes compromises.

They'll have to settle down eventually, but Stefan seems to be suffering from some sort of wanderlust and Elena's really no better. The reason they never stay more than a week has as much to do with her restlessness as his. None of the places they stop feel right.

Elena starts to see the experience as a sort of road trip, which it is, but before she felt more like a teenage runaway. Now, though, she's thrown herself into the role. She drags Stefan to every single tourist trap in their vicinity. Balls of twine and giant rocking chairs, statues and geysers, hicking trails and country fairs... She wants to do it all. Taking pictures and sending her friends postcards that she signs only with her and Stefan's first initials.

With a fond smile and happiness shining in his beautiful green eyes, Stefan lets himself be led.

***

In mid-August they roll into a tiny town in upstate New York and something inside of Elaina just clicks. She climbs out of the car and stretches, takes in the town around her. It's small and quaint and teaming with huge maple trees. There's a small boarding school just inside of the town limits, probably the main source of employment for the local population, and a small government protected forest not far past that, well within running distance. It has everything, and when Elena sees a 'Now Hiring' sign inside of a little bookstore/coffee shop, she knows this is it.

"This is it," she says aloud, just to cement her decision.

Looking at her from across the hood of the car, Stefan doesn't even need to ask her for clarification. Just nods, and studies the view around them. Fell's Church was her home, but maybe this can be their home, the one they make together.

***

Settling in is simple after that. They rent a cosy little apartment above a little deli, which Stefan pays for from the cache of, well, cash he seems to have squirreled away for a rainy day. (She doesn't ask where it came from.) Elena applies at the bookshop not because she has to, but because she's missed people. The shopkeeper, a middle aged woman with short, curly hair, seems grateful for the help, explaining that her former employee had left for college a little early to get set up and she'd been worried about finding a replacement before end of the summer. 

Stefan finds a job waiting at a little pub around the street from their apartment. His quick reflexes make him particularly good at the job. He fits in well and the man who owns and runs the place is fond of him, talks about training him to tend bar once he's turned of age.

Both Elena and Stefan are living under assumed identities, which Stefan obtained through means that Elena has yet to ask him about. The people in their sleepy little neck of the woods are under the impression that they're very young newlyweds, who ran away and eloped against their parents’ wishes. Tracey, Elena's boss, even asked Elena if an unplanned pregnancy had something to do with it, much to Elena's blushing chagrin. She'd been quick to set the woman straight.

Her friends are off at college and she's free to call them whenever she wants, barring their own busy social lives. This isn't the life she'd ever have planned for herself, but it's a happy one. Satisfactory for the most part.

There's always a niggling at the back of her mind that they'd left something unfinished, but she ignores it. Elena doesn't want to rock the boat, so to speak. Doesn’t want to ruin a good thing now that everything seems to be going so well, so perfectly.

Leave it to Damon to throw a wrench into things.

***

He shows up on a crisp day in November. His entrance isn't loud or extravagant or any of the things that Elena had come to associate with him 

She's on her lunch break, sitting at one of the booths with a couple of friends she's made during her stay while she watches Stefan work. It's something she does most days, watching Stefan move deftly through the lunch crowd, interacting so easily. It never ceases to tug at her heart to see him so comfortable in his own skin. To watch him in a moment when he isn't battling with his nature. 

It's a source of contention between them. Stefan wants so badly to pretend to be human. Hiding the darker side of who he is from her puts undue strain on him and Elena's argued that it's kind of like closing the barn door after the horses have already escaped. He's so adamantly stubborn about it, still refusing to take her blood even when she's been practically throwing herself at him.  

Truth be told, she misses that added bit of intimacy. Sharing blood is such a large part of his, for lack of a better term, sexuality, and they haven't done much of that, either. Elena's no blushing virgin, and they're supposed to be man and wife. Maybe it's a little crass, a little unladylike of her, but Elena wants the privileges that come with the title. As happy as she is most of the time, the mostly chaste state of their relationship is starting to grate on her nerves. 

And, it was with those thoughts on her mind that Damon slipped back into their lives. 

Elena doesn't even notice him at first, listening to Debbie tell her a story about her youngest son Jason and half lost in her thoughts. The thing that gives it away is the sudden tension in Stefan's shoulders and the way he's studiously keeping his back pointed away from the bar. 

Frowning, she turns in the direction of Stefan's hard stare, and her breath catches and her heart flutters. She's flooded with a sudden pervasive relief. Damon's alright. He's okay. She's ecstatically glad that he didn't do anything too stupid. She's a little bit ashamed that she hadn't insisted on going after him, because her return to life hadn't absolved Stefan of his promise, or her her of her own responsibility. 

She's frozen with all that she's feeling. Conflicted and swirling emotions, all bottled up and ready to explode. Her eyes are stinging with tears. Underneath the happiness is a creeping sort of fear. Elena likes Damon, she really does, but so much of his time spent in Fell's Church had been with the purpose of making Stefan miserable. The part of her that isn't swimming in relief is afraid that he's here to muck up the life that she and Stefan have made for themselves. That's something she just won't stand for. 

"Elena? Elena, sweetie what's the matter?" Maria, sitting across the booth from her, grabs hold of her hand to get her attention. 

Elena blinks, gaze jerking away from Damon's smirking frame. "What?" 

Maria arches a brow at her, looking so much like Meredith in that one moment that Elena aches with missing her friend. "I've said your name like five times. You spaced there a second. What's wrong?"   
"N-nothing!" Elena blushes, glances over at Damon again. He's turned to look at her, seeming lost his interest in whatever Stefan's doing. 

"Yeah, that's believable." And Maria follows her gaze and snorts. "That's not nothing, sweetie. That's a nummy treat." 

The colour suffusing Elena's cheeks darkens. Oh god, she's got to be tomato red by this point. What is it about the Salvatore brothers that turns the cool and collected part of her on its head? Makes her into a blushing, stuttering little girl? 

"He's a nummy treat who's on his way over," Debbie observes. "Maybe you should take Elena out next time you go a-hunting. She seems to make good bait." 

"Guys!" Elena gasps, paniced at Damon's impending arrival and appalled at the idea of helping Maria catch a man. Maria's the only single one of their little group and seems to see it as her responsibility to make up for that by dating as much and as often as possible, and never the same man for more than a week. 

"Not a bad idea," Maria says, completely ignoring Elena's indignation. There's a considering gleam in her dark eyes that Elena just doesn't like. 

Before Elena can do more than glower at them a shadow falls over their table and Damon's right there, invading her space. He smiles down at her and it still causes electricity to zing through her and her pulse to race. 

"Elena," he says in his smooth, accented voice. She's noticed Stefan's has faded a bit as he's become more Americanized. Damon doesn't seem to feel the same drive to acclimate to the world around him. "I hear congratulations are in order." 

She looks down at the bold, golden gleam of her wedding band of bold display and feels an unreasonable stab of guilt. Technically it's a prop, but it had meant so much more when Stefan had slipped it onto her ring finger, and when she'd slipped the matching, more masculine band onto his. Damon should have been there for that, as Stefan's brother. 

She fiddles with her ring, looks back up at Damon and mumbles, "Yes. Um, yes, thank you." 

"I'm glad my brother didn't dither around about it, princess," he tells her, and Elena's not sure whether or not to be offended on Stefan's behalf. When he continues, she is. "I half expected you'd be free and ripe for the plucking." 

Elena clenches her firsts and glares up at him, deadly vampire or no. "I'm not your princess, Damon. I'm your brother's wife and even if I weren't there would be no 'plucking' going on of any kind."

Damon looks more amused by the flare of temper than subdued. He smiles his most winning smile, effectively melting her lunch mates. Not Elena's determination, though. Softens it, maybe, but doesn't melt it.

"Little sister, then," he concedes. "We are, after all, family now."

Little sister. It's a strange and uneasy concept, Damon filling some sort of twisted big brother role in her life. They may be sort of family, but siblings is really not a word that she would use to describe their relationship.

"So, wait, this is Stefan's brother?" Maria asks, breaking into their back and forth. The tone of her voice telegraphs her obvious excitement.

Immediately Elena wants to warn her friend off, to tell her to stay away from Damon, but what's she going to say? 'Stay away from the brother in-law, he might eat you'? Elena snorts. Yeah, that would go over so well.

"Big brother," Damon says, eyeing Maria in a way that sets off warning bells in Elena's head. It's his hungry look, the one girls all over the world have probably misinterpreted as interest. Well, interest in a date. They think date, he thinks meal.

"Only in years, Damon," Stefan's voice cuts in as the vampire himself steps in to redirect Damon's attention. "We both know I've been taller than you since we were teenagers."

The leering, considering look drops from Damon's face and he scowls at Stefan. It seems that the height difference, however slight it might be, is a sore spot for Damon. One that Stefan is well aware of and quite pleased to take full advantage of.

"What I lack in height, little brother, I make up for in wisdom and wit. Both of which you are sorely lacking."

Stefan smiles at him, a smile without much humour. "That's a matter of opinion."

"What's this? Has St Stefan developed a personality? I'm shocked!"

“I confess that’s mostly to do with Elena’s good influence,” Stefan says, and it’s a taunt. Kind of like ‘I win and you lose, na na na-na na.’

It’s petty and mean and it shocks Elena right down to her toes. Stefan is supposed to be bigger than that. Damon’s supposed to be all of those things, and Stefan is supposed to have risen above this competition, especially now that he’s essentially got the prize.

The look she gives Stefan right then is so full of disappointment that he flinches. The vaguely superior expression that had developed drops from his face, turns apologetic. An apology directed at her, not Damon.

Damon shuts down, goes cold. When he speaks his voice doesn’t carry the same almost playful note as before. “Well played, brother. We’re not all so lucky to have spent the last months benefiting from her company.”

It’s a hit aimed at Stefan’s sense of honour and it lands with as much force as her disappointment had. He flinches again and opens his mouth, but Damon cuts in before he can speak. “This has been fun,” he says ironically, arrogance back and firmly in place, “and I hate to run so soon. We’ll see each other again, Elena. I’ll stop in and we can catch up.”

“Sure Damon,” she agrees softly. 

He nods curtly and is out the door as quickly as he’d come in, leaving behind pandemonium. Debbie and Maria are hungry for details and Stefan’s reeling with emotion. Elena answers her friends’ questions as well as she can, tries to steer Maria’s interest well away from Damon, and lays a reassuring hand on Stefan’s elbow. He relaxes minutely, and then moves away as someone signals him from across the room.  

The day is long after that. Elena spends most of her afternoon shelved wrong during her first attempt. Tracey clucks over her concernedly and asks after her distraction. When Elena explains that her brother in-law is in town and had disrupted her lunch Tracey's expression turns calculating. 

"And there's history between you two," she guesses shrewdly, blue-green eyes slicing through Elena like a warm knife through butter. 

"Not history... exactly," Elena tells her, avoiding the penetrating gaze. "We never dated or anything." 

Tracey gives her a look that speaks volumes about how much she's not buying it. "He just considered himself in the running for your affections." 

"That's one way to put it," Elena mutters with a grimace.  

"Let the boy lick his wounds for a while," Tracey advises. "You'll learn this as you get older, but I'll let you in on the secret now. There's nothing that can be hurt more easily than a man's pride, especially where a pretty girl is concerned. This Damon of yours will come around eventually." 

The advice is sound and Elena really wishes that it were that simple. Nothing is that simple when two powerful, centuries old vampires are involved. On one hand she really hopes that Damon can come to accept that she's chosen Stefan, permanently. On the other she hopes that both brother's can come to accept each other, because she wants them both in her life. She wants them in each other’s lives. 

When she finally gets home that evening Stefan is already puttering around the apartment, tidying what little bit of clutter they've managed to accumulate in the months since they've moved in. They usually keep everything fairly neat, so there's not much to actually put away, but Stefan keeps right on adjusting things. His jaw is tight and shoulders tense, face showing signs of strain, and Elena knows he's just trying to keep himself busy. 

Sighing, she slumps down onto the sofa, dropping purse and jacket onto the floor next to her feet. "We have to deal with this now, Stefan." 

Stefan doesn't even bother to ask her what she's talk about, just folds more tightly into himself. "We'll find a way to make him go away." 

Here Elena hesitates, not wanting to hurt him, but needing to make herself clear. "Maybe I don't want him to go away." 

The words hit him like no physical blow she could have dealt. His face goes whiter even than usual and the betrayal on his face nearly drops her to her knees. 

"No," she rushes to reassure him, stumbling to her feet. "I don't mean it like that. I haven't changed my mind, not about us. But what Damon said today is true. We're family now, Stefan. Maybe not technically, but in all the ways that count. We can't just make that go away." 

Before she can take a step toward him Stefan's across the room and has his arms wrapped around her shoulders so tightly it's almost painful. The hold is full of such desperate relief that Elena can’t help but be a little offended that Stefan could that her so fickle. That she would turn from him the minute Damon showed d his face again.  
   
In any case, his reluctance to search for his brother makes much more sense now. If Stefan had suspected that she might change her mind even on a subconscious level why should he want to find Damon? It makes her wonder, for the first time, if her curious questions about the older brother might have exacerbated that worry inside of Stefan.  
   
So, yes, she can understand why he doubted her, but it doesn't nullify his lack of faith, and later she'll yell at him for it. For right now she runs a soothing hand over his back and hopes he loosens his grip before breathing becomes an issue.  
   
Luckily, he calms enough after a few short minutes to move them to the couch, cradling Elena more gently in his lap. His cool lips trail over her forehead and into her hair so sweetly it almost brings tears to her eyes. She sighs and nestles into his broad chest, content for just a moment to let herself go in his arms.  
   
The moment is interrupted by a brisk knocking at the door. The way Stefan's body goes rigid tells her exactly who it is and she gets reluctantly to her feet to greet their guest. Like she guessed Damon's there, lounging against the doorframe with a casual grace that wants to make her a puddle on the floor. He smirks at her. Always with the smirking. It's not attractive. (Liar, a little voice in the back of her head whispers.)  
   
"What do you want, Damon?"  
   
Elena jumps at the question that sounds just above her right shoulder. Stefan hadn't made a sound when he'd gotten up and if she had to guess she'd say he got across the room with preternatural speed, too.  
   
"Who says I want anything?" Damon asks, eyes flashing an amused sort of innocence that is very fake.  
   
The low rumble that escapes Stefan's throat is a growl that could put any predator to shame. She wants to remind him that he's the one who's been subsisting on animal blood and it's unwise to challenge Damon. His aura is pulsing with an unmistakable sated energy that she recognizes, remembers from feeling it herself. Part of her even longs for it.  
   
She shoots Stefan a look and pointedly doesn't do or say anything that would indicate an invitation. Right now the invisible barrier is the only thing keeping Damon out and until they know what it is exactly that Damon wants, she doesn't want him in their home. Especially not with the volatile state of things between he and Stefan. She suspects resignedly that their relationship will always be this temperamental, even when they're getting along. Stubborn optimism is the only that keeps her trying to mend a bit of the rift between them.  
   
"Damon, please," she pleads, putting as much weariness in her voice as she can muster. She can muster a lot.  
   
It seems to do the trick, and some of the mask slips as he straightens from his slouch to take her in more steadily. He looks from Elena to Stefan and back again. He wants to say something, she can tell, but Stefan's presence is making him hesitate. If she didn't know it would hurt her 'husband' very deeply she'd ask him to leave so she could talk to Damon in private.  
   
Finally, Damon takes a deep breath and says quietly, "I don't know what to do."  
   
The confession makes something in her chest tighten and even Stefan rocks forward, his chest pressing against her back. Without thinking on it, she reaches through the threshold to take one of Damon's beautifully sculpted hands into hers. He looks at her, startled, and then squeezes her fingers gently.  
   
"Come in, Damon," she says, feeling the rumble of protest from behind her.  
   
Damon doesn't waste any time. He steps through the doorway and into their apartment, snaking around the two of them to take a seat at the tiny dining room table just beyond the entrance. Ignoring Stefan's grumble, she takes a seat across from him. Damon's trying to keep up his casually aloof front, but it's not working. Too much of it has crumbled already and there's no getting it back.  
   
"What don't you know?" she asks him gently.  
   
Damon's gaze skitters around the room, taking in the small and cozy appearance of the kitchen, all the little knick-knacks she picked up from yard sales and flea markets, the picture of her and Stefan at the Grand Canyon she pinned to the fridge. "This is very... quaint."  
   
Avoidance. Elena huffs a sigh of annoyance and Stefan moves to sit on her left. "Damon," he rumbles dangerously, a threat that all three of them know to be false. "You didn't come all this way to comment on the decor."  
   
Damon scowls, crossing his arms defensively in front of his chest. "I was complimenting you on your home. That is usually what one is supposed to do when one is a guest."  
   
"You've never followed proper etiquette before, why should this time be any different?"  
   
Damon flashes one of his white smiles in Elena’s direction. "Your pretty young bride, of course. Elena deserves to be treated with all of the grace and respect a man can muster for a lady of her calibre."  
   
The snort that Elena emits in response is far from lady-like, kind of like the eye roll. She's sick of the game, and forges on determinedly. "Stop trying to distract us by being an ass. Why are you here?"  
   
For a second she thinks he's about to bolt. He's strung as tight as a bowstring and his black eyes go wilder than usual, but he keeps his gaze pinned on her, like the connection is the only thing keeping him there. Stefan shifts in his seat and then, in a move that surprises everyone including Stefan himself, reaches out to snag Damon's hand much the same way she had just a few moments earlier.  
   
"Damon," he says, "just tell us. After everything, you can trust us."  
   
Damon looks at his brother and it's like for the first time he's actually seeing Stefan. He moves his free hand over to clasp over Stefan's. He flicks a look at Elena and she smiles reassuringly. He sighs and then slumps in acquiescence.  
   
"I don't know how to do it anymore." At their questioning looks he continues on to explain. "My life, the way I lived it before. I've fed, but I haven't been able to kill a human since your teacher. And then after I left Fell's Church I found that I've become accustomed to the company of humans."  
   
"You're lonely.”

The revelation isn't a new one, not to Elena. She's always suspected something of the sort, but Stefan's absorbing it for the first time. In all those months that they were on their own together did they ever actually look at one another? Somehow, she thinks not. 

Damon doesn't nod or admit it verbally, but the way his face blanks is confirmation enough. When he looks like he's going to pull away Stefan's grip tightens. It's a useless move if Damon really does decide to leave, but it seems to keep Damon seated anyway.  

Stefan starts suddenly in his seat and then snorts with laughter. "Very funny," he says, which confuses Elena for all of two seconds. Right. Telepathy. 

The boys let each other go and Damon leans back in his seat, making a decisive effort to collect himself. Stefan watches him amusedly and Elena leans over to whisper, "What'd he say."  
   
"Just something about holding hands and people getting the wrong idea," Stefan says, not even bothering to keep his voice low.  

Damon slouches elegantly, his eyebrows arching in a way that could only be called flirtatious. "Humans. You all have such gutter minds." 

"The only human here is me Damon, and I don't think I'm likely to get the wrong idea," Elena shakes her head, though she's smiling at the two of them.

The look Damon gives her then is knowing and Elena looks away, embarrassed. They’re both just so startling handsome and the thing that’s there between them is intense in a way that makes her quake. It’s a thought she’s kept well hidden from Stefan, but there’s a part of her that’s wonders if Katherine didn’t have the right idea about choosing them both. It’s a thought that shames her, because she’s not Katherine, playing two brothers against each other. 

"You can stay here," says Stefan, and Elena heaves a mental sigh of relief when it redirects Damon's attention. When Damon looks at her it feels like everything's there on the surface for her to read. All the things she tries to hide from herself and from Stefan are exposed. It's not a feeling she likes. 

"There are conditions." 

Damon shrugs, as if to say he'd been expecting this part of the conversation. "Of course there are. There are always conditions with you."  

Stefan eyes him and then purses his lips before ploughing forward. "No slaughtering the populace. I know I can't talk you into feeding from animals the way I do, but don't kill your victims." 

"I thought you were listening during the part where I confessed I haven't been able to kill any of my food lately," Damon says petulantly, like he's talking about the disposal of fast food containers. 

"In case you forget, then. This is your only warning Damon. If you kill anyone you'll have to leave." 

The pout doesn't leave the older brother's lips, but he nods stiffly. Stefan seems satisfied with the agreement as he continues, "Don't drink from anyone in town. This is our home and I don't want you doing anything that could drive us out. You were careless with those girls in Italy and it could have gotten us caught. This is a small community, things like that won't go unnoticed here. If you won't find a deer or a rabbit in the woods outside of town then take a trip to one of the nearby cities; they're not that far and I know you're capable of making it there. And for God's sake Damon, make sure to glamour them so they don't remember." 

"They won't end up like Vickie, right?" Elena asks, suddenly concerned about what they could be unleashing on the local people. 

Stefan shakes his head. "No. Not unless he wants them to be. So long as the glamour is done right, the victim should recover from the blood and memory loss with no lasting ill effects. What Katherine did to Vickie was more of a thrall than a glamour. 

"And you won't be thralling any of your victims, will you Damon?" 

The question offends Damon on some level and he glares right back, fire glinting in the dark of his eyes. 

"I don't have to resort to thralling anyone, little brother. They can hardly be called victims if they come to me so willingly." 

"You draw them in with your looks and your charm. You may have a pretty face, but you're still a predator. Some of the most dangerous beasts in the world are also the most beautiful." 

"A point which you seem to have forgotten about yourself. You're as much a predator as I am, I'm just not so lucky to have found such willing prey." 

And it's obvious he's talking about Elena. As much as she'd like to make a retort she knows it's at least partially true. Stefan fights against his instincts because he's ashamed of them. Even if he's not currently feeding from Elena, doesn't make the urge just go away and eventually she's going to beat down his resolve. Still, she refuses to see herself as his victim or willing prey. 

"We're not discussing me. This is about you. I know how to keep my presence from being noticed." 

Damon snorts. "Oh yes, Saint Stefan, so keen on making the world a greener place. Tell me, how many species of furry woodland creatures have you almost driven to extinction with your preferred diet?"

“Damon,” Stefan glowers. “Take this seriously. You won’t be getting a second chance.”  
   
Like a school boy who’s just been chastised Damon settles into his chair and puts on his best attentive face. “Better?” he asks.  
   
“Much,” says Stefan, just as much sarcasm in his voice. “You don’t kill humans and you don’t feed from anyone here. You don’t get to ruin our life here. No telling lies or spreading rumours. No starting fights or causing scenes. Your behaviour might reflect badly on us and I won’t have you doing anything that could damage Elena’s reputation.”  
   
The speech is beginning to sound a little too parental even for Elena’s taste and she’s not the one on the receiving end of it. Damon shifts and looks ready to rebel when she lays a restraining hand on Stefan’s shoulder. “Back it up a little there, Dad. I think we’re at the point where you’re just going to have to trust him for a bit.”  
   
Stefan looks like he wants to argue, but he takes in the tilt of her chin and the curve of his brow and relents. "You're right." He takes a deep, calming breath, leaning into her touch. When he turns back to Damon he's more stern than tyrannical. "There's a guest bedroom here you can stay in or you can find your own place to stay. Elena and I both work during the day, so you'd have the apartment to yourself for the most part. If you do decide to stay I'll expect you to contribute to the bills - with money you didn't steal. These are the ground rules. Do you think you can abide by them?"  
   
For one long second Elena thinks Damon's going to refuse. His mouth is set in a hard, resentful line and he's glaring at his brother like he could burn a hole in Stefan's skull with his eyes. But his gaze flickers to Elena and he gives a grudging nod.  
   
"I don't think I could stomach more than a few days in your happy little love nest, but I do thank you for the kind offer. The rest of your rules are... acceptable." And he thrusts his hand forward to seal the deal. Stefan shakes it reluctantly, doing his best to look like he's actually satisfied with the agreement, but Elena knows that he was more than half hoping Damon would storm out without agreeing.  
   
But he did agree, and he's climbing out of his seat and smirking at Stefan's obvious disappointment. He stretches unnecessarily, putting his fine physique on display to irk his brother further. Elena watches, even knowing why he's doing it, because it's impossible not to.  
   
"I should be off," Damon says once he's finished showing off. "Given your arbitrary rules, it will take some time to be far enough away that I'm allowed to eat."  
   
"I'll see you out," Stefan says, scrambling gracefully to his feet, the rush to see Damon gone from the apartment almost rude.  
   
Damon shakes his head, his hand flicking out in a 'stay' gesture. "Don't trouble yourself. I'm family after all. There's no need to treat me like a guest." He nods curtly to Stefan and then more warmly in Elena's direction. "Brother. Sister."  
   
And with that he strides out of the apartment, head high and shoulders straight like a conquering hero from legends. Only Damon's no hero. A miscast villain maybe, but no hero.  
   
When the door slams shut and his footsteps can no longer be heard in the hall, Elena groans and lets her head thunk down against the dark work of the kitchen table. Stefan, still looking after his brother, comes over to rest a long fingered hand against her back. She peaks up at him.  
   
"I'm really sorry."  
   
"For what?"  
   
"For letting him in. For wanting him here. For making you doubt us."  
   
Stefan shakes his head, expression more settled than it had been before Damon's visit. "There's nothing to forgive. You were right. I don't necessarily like him, but something's changed in him, Elena, and we had a hand in that. To send him away would be selfish and the coward’s way out."

Fighting sudden tears, Elena turns and wraps her arms around his waist, burying her face into his strong middle. She doesn't know what she did to deserve him, but she'll spend the rest of her life proving to the world that she's worth it.  
   
***  
   
The first few days Damon is in town he's conspicuous in his absence. Elena frets over what he could be doing, and to whom. She worries that he might not have found a suitable place to stay and is staying away from them out of pride. That something's happened to him. It's illogical, but she worries after him more now that she's seen him than she did before.  
   
She's still fending off questions from her friends and even Tracey, who's no gossip monger, but still very curious. Maria's hinting very insistently trying to manoeuvre herself into a hook-up, but Elena claims that Damon's just had a bad break-up and he's not ready for anything else right yet. It's true, in a very round-about way, though Katherine's betrayal is anything but recent. Debby wants a more detailed account of her past now and Elena's struggling to keep the story from getting out of control.  
   
Even without causing an actual scene Damon's made life a bit more complicated. She wonders if she should be more angry about that.  
   
Stefan works on like Damon never showed up. He hasn't made friends the same way Elena has and if any of his coworkers have said anything about Damon showing up in the pub he hasn't told her about it. They talk a little about how things could change now that it's no longer just the two of them, but it's nothing life changing. She supposes that they're both hoping that Damon's not going to rock the boat too much. Considering it's Damon, though, it's probably inevitable that they're going to tip.

She calls her old friends because they're the only ones who really get it. The Saturday morning after Damon showed up she's curled up on the couch in her pyjamas, the phone pressed to her ear as she tries to work things out with Bonnie and Meredith. Except for the vampires and being a whole country apart it's almost like old times.  
   
"I'm glad he's okay," Bonnie says chirpily, so quick to forgive and forget any offence. Though, to be fair, it's been Bonnie who's jumped to Damon's defence from the beginning. Even if it had stemmed from a pretty shallow base of reasoning.  
   
Meredith is a little more cautious. "Just be careful. I know he's different than when we first met him, but has hasn't lost his skill at manipulation."  
   
Elena sighs into the mouth piece and tips her head back to stare up at the ceiling. "I wish we could just skip this part. I don't want him to leave, but... Things were easier before he got here. If we could just skip the settling in part it would be easier now."  
   
"Elena, life isn't always going to be easy," Meredith says with implacable sensibility. "If it wasn't Damon, it was going to be something else."  
   
"You're right," Elena admits, even if she'd really rather keep her head buried in the sand. This had been easy before, but they hadn't been perfect. As much as Elena wants to believe that she's one of the Disney princesses with their fade to black happily ever afters, real life just doesn't work that way. She's a grown woman and she and Stefan aren't just a couple of kids playing house.  
   
"At least this way it comes in really pretty packaging," Bonnie offers brightly. That's one way to look at the silver lining.  
   
"I think that might be part of the problem, Bonnie," Meredith says. "All things considered, it's entirely understandable that Stefan would be a little insecure and you know Damon. He probably isn't doing anything to assuage that worry."  
   
Elena sighs again. "No, he's really not. I've said what I can, but they have so much history. It's hard to see past that."  
   
"Just keep trying. That's all you can really do."  
   
So that's exactly what Elena does. She tries her very best, going out of her way to be as sweet and attentive as she can possibly be. It makes her feel a bit like a Stepford Wife. All she really needs is one of the poufy skirts and a pearl necklace, but if this is what Stefan needs to feel reassured then she's willing to make the sacrifice.  
   
She does some of his chores, even though they've split the housework up pretty evenly between the two of them and she hates housework. She smiles and simpers and bats her eyelashes, and she's even stopped bothering him about the biting thing. Anything she can think of to make him more at ease.  
   
It's the wrong tactic. She knows it almost as soon as her plan is in motion. Stefan is mystified by the change and not a little bit wary. The added workload to her housekeeping goes mostly unnoticed, but when she starts deferring to him intimately he starts to go quiet and pensive. The coquettish flirtation just makes him back off entirely.  
   
A week of this goes by and Elena tries to back up and re-evaluate her plan, but it's so hard. Stefan's started giving her a wide berth at home and they're both too busy at work to get much more than a few minutes alone time together to discuss it. In an apartment the size of theirs, you'd think this level of avoidance would be impossible, but Stefan's hunting trips take a little longer each night.  
   
Instead of making things between them better she's only made them worse and now they're both so miserable. She starts to think maybe Stefan was right and she should have sent Damon away.  
   
The thought makes her so guilty that she just sits at her kitchen table moping for a good few minutes. She's still dressed in what she wore to work, her hair and mess and make-up rubbed almost completely off. It's not a look that past Elena would have been caught dead in, but she's so different now that she doesn't even remember that girl anymore.  
   
When there's a knock at the door she jumps, heart automatically thundering in her chest. She knows it's not Stefan because he wouldn't knock, but she's not used to getting visitors, not at this time of night. Warily, she gets up and answers the door.  
   
It's Damon. Of course it's Damon.  
   
Sighing, she lets him in, knowing that now that he's been invited there's nothing to stop him from entering even if she tried to keep him out. Neither of them say anything as they move into the kitchen.  
   
"Would you like something?" she asks politely.  
   
Damon just eyes her curiously. "No, thank you." He pauses, looking around the small space for something. His brow crinkles. "And where's my brother tonight? Not still out culling the wildlife, surely?"  
   
Elena just sighs again and slumps in her seat. "He's dawdling. Things have been... strained lately."  
   
She's not sure why she tells him this, because it's Damon and it's unbelievably stupid to be handing him this sign of weakness. But she needs to tell someone. Bonnie and Meredith are sympathetic, but they don't get it, not really. She figures if anyone's got the inside track on Stefan's mindset it has to be Damon.  
   
"Trouble in paradise?" Damon asks lightly, but there's something behind the cool mask of indifferent amusement.  
   
"Something like that," she says and sits back down at the table, closing her hand around the lukewarm cup of coffee she's already been nursing for half an hour.

The concern that Damon exhibits then isn't contrived. When he asks what's wrong she can tell he means it.  
   
And she tells him, because he's there and he's looking at her like she matters, like he actually cares. It's all eating at her and she needs to tell someone or explode. There's enough of his brother in his features that it even feels almost like she's telling Stefan.  
   
Except Stefan wouldn't have just sat there and let himself be talked at. He'd have had her in his arms the minute her voice turned anxious, soothing her with words and touch, halting the stream of words from tripping off her tongue. That's just not what she needs right now. She needs to purge herself of all the pent up emotion, to babble it all out in half-articulate catharsis.  
   
Okay, realistically Damon's probably taking in all of the information to use as a weapon at some later date. But right now he's just listening and for that Elena can't help but be grateful.  
   
When she's ground to a halt, shoulders all but heaving, he jus reaches out and brushes the mess of blond hair from her face and looks at her with something that's almost compassion. He sighs and says, "You'll work things out, the two of you. My brother's a well-meaning idiot, but he won't be able to stay away from you for much longer. Especially not with me lurking in the shadows."  
   
Elena gives him a weak smile and he smiles back. It's small, but it's real. He should smile like that more often. "Thanks Damon."  
   
Unthinkingly, she leans forward to give him a small peck on the cheek. His eyes go wide with shock, but he doesn't pull away. For a few calm moments they just sit there in silence, enjoying each other's company. It's a nice feeling, Elena thinks. For all of his arrogance and heavy intensity, Damon can be awfully comforting.  
   
All too son Damon climbs to his feet and starts making his way to the door. "I should go before Stefan gets back," he says, and Elena hates that. It's true, but she still hates it. Bad enough she and Stefan aren't talking, worse that she feels like she has to keep this a secret.  
   
When Stefan finally comes home almost an hour later he doesn't notice anything different from any of the nights previous. She's not sure why he should, but she finds it incredibly odd that he doesn't pick up on Damon's visit at the very least. It makes her nervous. It makes her feel like she’s done something wrong.  
   
It doesn't help that Damon starts showing up at the bookshop after that, ostensibly for reading material, but more honestly to see her. Tracy recognizes his name upon being introduced, but beyond a quick hitch of her eyebrows doesn't show any sign of knowing what's up.  
   
Because nothing IS 'up,' Elena insists to the niggling part of herself that keeps voicing reason. There's nothing to feel guilty about. People see their in-laws all the time and there's nothing remotely nefarious going on. They have coffee in her place of work, with her employer, present for God's sake. How more innocent could you get?  
   
They don't talk about Stefan, except in a round-about fashion. Instead she learns things about Damon the same way she'd learned about Stefan during their road trip. He remembers more of their childhood, probably more because he was older than because of better recollection. His stories of his travels fascinate her just as much as Stefan's had. He doesn't quite apologize for the things he'd done to her and Stefan before her first and then second death, but it's a close thing.  
   
She tells him about growing up and what she remembers of being dead. When they discuss her short life as a vampire it's rather more awkward. It's a subject she rarely brings up with Stefan, but with Damon she feels like she can confess that sometimes she misses it. Not the disconnect from the rest of the human race, but the freedom in it. The power.  
   
Stefan can't understand it, because he's always been at war with his nature, right from the very beginning. Damon glories in it.  
   
The lapis lazuli ring still on her finger is both beautiful and cruel, because it's a symbol of Stefan's love for her, but also of the life they could have had. Elena's not going to live forever. She's going to grow old and Stefan (and Damon) are going to stay forever young. Right now they're okay, but what happens in a decade or two when people start looking at them askance or mistaking them for mother and son?  
   
For just a few short days they'd been equals and they'd had all of eternity ahead of them. She and Stefan and Damon, all three of them. Elena doesn't want them to turn her. She never had, but she does miss the reassurance of forever.  
   
Damon listens to all of it with sympathy that's probably a little feigned, but she appreciates it. Some of it she's not comfortable talking to her friends about, because she's ashamed for thinking or feeling a certain way. You're not supposed to miss vampirism. But Damon has embraced the darker side of his nature and he has no room to judge. In light of current circumstances, he might even understand more than anyone else could have.  
   
Of course Stefan does find out about their little lunch dates eventually. It's a small town and it was only a matter of time. Elena's not even sure why she didn't tell him when Damon first started showing up, but she didn't and now Stefan thinks he has something to be suspicious about.  
   
"Nothing's going on," she insists vehemently after about the fourth accusation. "We sit and we talk. That's it."  
   
Stefan's expression is stony, his eyes a cool jade green that reflects her ire back at her. "Then why didn't you tell me? Why did I have to hear about from Peter the busboy?"  
   
"Maybe because I was afraid of this," she gestures at the two of them. "Maybe I knew you would freak out like this and wanted to avoid it."  
   
"He's dangerous, Elena! I have every right to 'freak out.'"  
   
"No. No, you don't. He came to us and we let him in. We said he could stay. You said he could stay. He's not murdering the whole town and there's nothing in the rules that says he can't stop in for a chat."  
   
Stefan grinds his teeth. "Damon doesn't just stop in for chats. He's up to something, Elena. He's trying to lure you away from me, just like he was before."  
   
"I guess it's a good thing I'm not going to let him 'lure' me anywhere, then," she says dryly, already sick of the argument. Deflating, she rubs a tired hand over her face. "Look, Stefan. I'm sorry. I should have said something, but things were already strained and I was a coward, okay? Nothing is going on with me and Damon, but I still should have told you."  
   
For a second Stefan looks like he's going to continue, but he sighs and looks just as tired as she does in that moment. "I trust you. I really do, but... It's hard."  
   
"I know, I get it." Elena closes the space between them and wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest. "Katherine really screwed you guys over."  
   
 He nods into her hair, wide hand moving around to splay out across the small of her back. This is the closest they’ve been in weeks, and she shuffles closer still. He doesn’t pull away, just says, “Don’t stop seeing him. Just don’t hide it from me now, okay?”

Elena nods, and just holds on.

***

The worst part about looking so much like Katherine is Stefan and Damon’s habit of sometimes forgetting that she isn’t Katherine. She’s not even close. Greedy, spoiled Katherine thought she could have both the boys simply because she wanted both. Elena knows better. She knows better and she made a choice.

Maybe she was naive to think she could have Stefan and still be friends with Damon. Probably, she's naive to think she and Damon are friends at all. Can you really be friends with someone when you share a history like theirs? Yes, she chose Stefan, and she will stick by that choice, but she can't stop an unconscious thrill at Damon's presence.  
   
Stefan can probably sense it in her. He's usually so sure of this, of them. Damon is the only person who's ever made him doubt her, and though some of that goes back to Katherine, she knows that they left a lot unresolved back in Fell's Church.  
   
When she tells Damon about their argument and compromise the next day at work, he merely cracks a lopsided smile and says, "He'd do anything for you. Even share you with me, if that's what you wanted."  
   
There's so much in his voice in that moment, in his eyes, that Elena's breath catches and her heart stutters. He can’t mean it the way it sounded. He can’t, can’t, can’t. Elena smiles weakly and murmurs a response she barely remembers.

The intensity of Damon’s confession sticks with her all day, even as she buries the implications way down deep. ‘I choose Stefan’ becomes her new mantra.

***

Things are better. Stefan stops being so distantly and she`s finally started to think that their life is going back to normal. That Damon can be part of that normal. 

Another naive thought, but one she treasured.  
   
Slowly but surely Stefan begins to relax. He's no longer avoiding her and Damon's been coming over in the evenings sometimes, to visit both of them, not just her. She sees then the tentative camaraderie that they had built up in her absence. The relationship that had all but ended with her reappearance. She finds it ironic that while Katherine's 'death' had driven them further apart, Elena's had brought them closer together.  
   
Eventually, she manages to talk both of them into going out with her. Stefan's not much of a shopper, but Damon... Now, Damon puts her little shopaholic habits to shame. With Stefan keeping pace behind them like a unimpressed parent, Damon drags her into every shop and boutique in the mall, trying on clothes and hats and pouring over jewellery. For the most part they don't buy much, but Damon has an eye for fashion that's really quite impressive. Not so much an eye for a deal, but Stefan balances his excess out with unrelenting common sense.  
   
The day is so wonderful and she smiles and laughs more than she has since she left Fell's Church. Damon smiles back just as broadly, a true smile that crinkles at the corner of his eyes, showing off crow’s feet she hadn't been previously aware of. Stefan joins in there merriment, even if he's a little more reserved.  
   
She pops a pair of sunglasses onto his nose and he looks down at her over the lenses. There's so much love in his expression that she stands on her tip-toes and plants a quick kiss on his lips.  
   
"We're buying those," she says, and he agrees easily enough.  
   
"Gross," Damon says, covering his eyes.  
   
Still half wrapped around Stefan, Elena snakes her arm out to snag Damon and pull him closer, planting a wet kiss on his cheek. Neither brother is alarmed by the display, having grown increasingly used to the easy affection, and merely share a look of indulgence over her head.  
   
They leave the mall with their arms linked, Elena squashed comfortably in the middle. She doesn't want the day to end, but the sky is purpling with the onset of twilight and she knows Damon hasn't fed in several days. Reluctantly, they part, Damon lingering as long as he can and even Stefan seeming sad to see him go.  
   
On the drive back to their apartment Elena sighs and lays her head against Stefan's shoulder. He grabs her hand and gives it a squeeze. 

***

Elena and Damon are alone when everything goes to hell. It’s Stefan’s Sunday shift and the bookstore isn’t open. Sunday has unofficially become Elena and Damon Day, the only time the two of them can do whatever they want without Stefan’s disapproval.

They’re, both of them, sprawled out on the couch, heckling the actors on whatever bit of trash she’s managed to find on TV. Her comments are mean and judgemental, and nothing she’d have wanted Stefan hear coming out of her mouth. Damon is just as cruel in his observations as she is, though perhaps a little more poetic about it.

She’s in jeans and a sweater, her hair in a sloppy bun, not a hint of cosmetic near her person, and she has what must be half a pint of triple chocolate ice cream in a bowl in her lap. Beside her, Damon is wearing a pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt, his hair as artfully tousled as ever, but his feet are bare and settled on the coffee table in front of them. It’s the most laid-back she’s ever seen him.

“Oh look at that,” she crows as a particularly buxom blond flounces onto the screen. “There’s no way those things are real. They don’t even bounce! And that hair! Those are some seriously nasty extensions.”

Damon chuckles. “You have a good eye. If I didn’t know any better I would have guessed you had a supernatural talent for spotting such falsehoods.”

Elena scoops a bit of ice cream into her mouth. “Nah,” she says. “Just a lot of exposure to Hollywood actresses and a bit of cynicism thrown in for good measure.”

“A deadly combination,” Damon intones dryly. 

“What can I say?” She shrugs. “It’s my generation.”

He grunts and they turn back to the TV. Or she does at least. Later, when she lets herself actually thinking about it, she realizes her must have keep watching her as she takes another spoonful of ice cream. It goes a little wide of the target and she drips some down her chin. Unconsciously, she wipes the mess away with her fingers before licking them clean. The act is completely thoughtless, but apparently enough to set Damon off. Before the flavour has a chance to more than settle on her tongue Damon is on her, covering her mouth with his own, his tongue seeking out all traces of chocolate on her lips.

At first Elena’s frozen, but when she feels Damon’s hand settle on her shoulder she comes suddenly alive, surging up to meet the kiss with her own passion. Damon’s lips are cool, but so are hers, from the ice cream, and the almost matched temperature is exciting. It’s something she hasn’t known in a long while.

He tastes of peppermint, and she knows he must have chewed a stick of gum or brushed his teeth. She always imagined (when she’s allowed herself to) that he might taste metallic, like copper, with the blood so heavy in his system. It was a silly thought, all things considered, but one of the one’s she’d harboured during the time they’d been so hell bent on labelling him evil. He doesn’t taste evil. He tastes of peppermint a little of chocolate ice cream and a lot of man. He smells wonderful, too, all musky and clean.

Letting him feed from her had felt divine, but to have him kiss her? Damon kisses like a summer storm, all fierce and bright. It’s a sensation that cools her down and warms her up all at the same time. Fire and ice and electricity.

She pulls him closer, wanting more of him, and his hand slides over to cradle the back of her skull, angling her head just right to deepen the kiss. Then his lips leave hers, and he trails small, little kissed along her chin and over her jaw, nuzzling delicately at the sensitive space just below her ear. Elena shudders, and tipping her head back even further to allow him easier access.

Damon ‘hmm’s a grunt and slowly trails lower, breathing deep and dragging her scent. Elena’s heart races as his tongue peeks out to lick at her pulse point, and god, it’s been so long... 

Elena’s lost in it just as much as he must be. Until she feels something wet and cold in her lap and pulls back, shocked out of it.

Her ice cream is now well and truly melted, staining the front of her jeans an embarrassing shade of brown. She looks down, numbed by more than the cold, then flicks her gaze back up to Damon, who’s still leaning over her, his chest heaving with unneeded breaths. 

“Fuck.”

The word is his, not hers. His eyes squeeze shut and his jaw clenches spasmodically. Her hand reaches out to touch him almost against her will, fingers grasping at the cotton of his sleeve.

“Damon, what-“

He yanks away, scrambling across the room in a heartbeat, leaning against the wall opposite her. The TV wobbles on its stand, almost knocked over by his momentum. 

“Don’t,” he says, and he won’t meet her eyes, looking steadily down at the floor. 

“Why d-?”

He interrupts before she can finish the question. “I have to go.”

Damon’s gone before she can do more than blink.

***

When Stefan gets home that night he can tell something’s wrong almost immediately. He hangs up his jacket, another prop in their act, and moves to crouch in front of her. She’s put her ice cream bowl in the sink and wiped up the mess on their floor, but there’s still the stain on her jeans and the sticky remains on her hands and a streak across her cheek. Between that and the wild look in her blue-violet eyes, Stefan’s deduced correctly that something’s happened.

“What is it?” he asks. “What’s wrong?”

Elena focuses at him, sees him looking at her with such warm concern and bursts into tears. Bewildered, Stefan gathers her into his arms. She sobs into his chest and thinks about how she doesn’t deserve it. About how, only a few hours earlier, she’d been kissing his brother on their couch. Worse, that she’d enjoyed it, and worst of all that part of her was hard put to regret it.

She doesn’t know if it’s the part of her that’s misses being a vampire or the part of her that’s still the girls she’d been before. The one who thrilled in a conquest, who couldn’t be happy with a boy like Matt, had to set her eyes higher. On to a boy – man – vampire – like Stefan. 

She chose Stefan. She wants Stefan. She needs Stefan.

Her heart is breaking with the realization that she feels all of those same things about Damon.

Elena cries harder and tries to curl herself up even tighter. Stefan, confused and probably frightened, tightens his grip.

“Elena,” he pleads. “Elena, your emotions are all over the place. Just- Just tell me what happened. Something happened with Damon?”

And there’s a dread in the tone of his voice, a sort of wariness, like he’s been expecting something all this time. She hates his low expectations and she hates herself for dropping so low that she’s meeting them.

“Damon,” she says, practically croaks. Elena can’t lie. Not about this. “He- Stefan, he kissed me.” 

Stefan stiffens, and then relaxes, goes a little limp. He looks relieved, and then furious. “He kissed you. Kissed you without your consent.”

For a split second she almost lets Damon take the fall, but that’s not what happened, not at all. “Damon kissed me,” she says again, stronger this time, and she meets his blazing eyes, all hot with anger and betrayal. It’s about to get worse, but she’s withstood death and more, and she’ll face this head on, too. “He didn’t ask permission, but I didn’t push him away, either.”

Stefan’s reaction is so much like Damon’s earlier that she’d find it hilarious under different circumstances. He backs away, almost as quickly as Damon had, until he slams into the wall. Elena watches from where she’s been dropped onto the floor, knowing what she’s done. Acknowledging that she’s just as bad as Katherine ever had been. Worse, even, because she loves them, really loves them both.

“We were watching TV,” she says softly, trying to make him understand. “We always watch TV on Sundays, because we can watch all of the things you don’t like. And I was having a bowl of ice cream. When I dropped some off onto my chin and cleaned it off with my fingers, I guess something inside of him just snapped...” She trails of, blushing at the remembered intensity of the kiss. 

“I knew we were playing with fire,” she goes on. “I knew we couldn’t be like a normal family, but I just wanted it so badly, Damon. I chose you. I choose you, but that hasn’t made what I felt for Damon go away. I was wrong to have tried to hide that that from myself, and to let myself think I could have him, just a little bit. It was my fault, Stefan. I led him on.”

She doesn’t tell him that she’s pretty sure that Damon almost bit her there before they found reason. That she’s pretty sure that she would have let, would have loved every minute of it. It’s bad enough, what he already does know, and knowing that, she’s afraid of one or both of them getting hurt. Of them hurting one another. She’s already hurt them enough.

Stefan just stares at her for a long, agonizing moment, like he can’t quite comprehend what she’s just said. |Then his eyes shutter, his expression locks down, and she can’t read anything from him.

“I need to be alone,” he says, and then follows his statement up with action. The door shuts behind him with a quiet snick and Elena’s alone in the apartment, having driven away both of the men she loves with her selfishness

 

***

She sits on the floor for a long time after that. The shadows lengthen and take over as true dark falls. The only illumination is from the street lamp outside, but she can’t muster the energy to get up and turn on a light.

She’s not sure she wants the light one, to see the home she and Stefan have made for themselves, put together with such love and optimism. Elena doesn’t want to look at the photos on the walls, to see the happy couple in them, their smiles. She doesn’t want to face fully everything that she’s ruined. Not quite yet.

She wonders if either will return. Wonders what she’ll do if they don’t. Bonnie and Meredith are busy with their own lives and how would it look, her living in their dorms? Matt doesn’t deserve this, not after what she’s already done to him. Her friends in town will probably put her up, but what will she tell them? That she’s just another statistic? Married too young and quickly divorced?

That word is just too much and she giggles manically. A teenage divorcee. God.

The giggles seem to kick her out of some of the funk. Elena hates that she’s like this, almost as much as she hates what she’s done. That she’s limp and useless and just laying there in the dark. So, she lurches to her feet and moves to turn on one of the lamps. The light is blinding, but she blinks until she can see again. 

Standing there, Elena is just turning around to try and regroup when she hears a tapping at her window and shrieks. The apartment is on the second floor. 

Another tap and she moves cautiously to the window, bending close so she can look out. A pair of bead black eyes look back at here through the glass and she stumbles back a step, startled. The crow caws at her, muffled but audible, and pecks at the pane again.

What the holy...?

Damon. It has to be Damon.

Taking a deep breath, she unlatches and opens the window. Damon Bird swoops in from his perch on the sill outside and into the centre of the room. She blinks and there’s a fully grown man standing there. 

“Jesus, Damon,” she says, momentarily forgetting the afternoon in the face of the obvious. “Can’t you use a door like a normal person?”

“That would have had nearly so impressive an impact.” Damon smirks, though his eyes are deep and serious.

Elena shivers. She slides the window shut even though she knows it’s from more that the winter air. She really doesn’t want to face this, not yet, but he’s come and she really doesn’t have much choice.

Neither says anything as they stand there in the middle of the room, just looking at one another. Damon’s expression gives away nothing, though she’s pretty sure she telegraphing her anxiety loud and clear. All her apprehension and hope laid right out there for him to read. What’s he waiting for? What’s she waiting for? She doesn’t know.

And then the doorknob twists and Stefan’s in the room, too, one Salvatore brother on either side of her. They’re not going to go easy on her, and she’s not sure whether or not to be grateful that she’s going to get it done all in one go. Would it be more painful to draw it out or make it quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid? 

This does explain Damon’s using the window, though. Kind of.

The boys greet each other with a nod. Elena can’t understand it. Shouldn’t they be at each other’s throats by now?

“We talked,” Stefan tells her, like it’s supposed to make sense. Elena just stares back stupidly.

“We talked about you,” Damon clarifies, and it doesn’t help her comprehension. He sighs long-sufferingly. “Remember what I said about Stefan sharing?”

She does. Of course she does. It’s not something she could have forgotten even if she’d tried, but what does it have to do with anything? 

Damon just looks at her, waiting. She looks back, and then at Stefan. He’s only a couple of paces into the living room, as if he’s unsure of his welcome. There’s none of the recrimination that she was expecting in his expression, only acceptance and a deep-seated love that very nearly knocks the air right out of her lungs.

“It’s true,” Elena says, disbelieving. “You’d share me? No. No. I’m not- Stefan, I can’t. I’m not like Katherine. I can’t be that person, no matter what my heart and my body is telling me.”

Stefan shakes his head and steps forward. “It’s not like that, Elena. You’re not a piece of property or a pet. We can’t negotiate visitation rights.” He takes a deep breath, and looks over her shoulder to Damon. “We’re not just sharing you, Elena; we’re going to share each other.”

Elena doesn't quite grasp that until Damon strides across the room, and past her to take Stefan’s face into his hands. Then, he kisses Stefan with as much force as he uses for anything else, and the shocking part is that Stefan kisses him back. Kisses him back with just as much passion and brutality. It’s the most beautiful thing Elena’s ever seen. They’re brothers and she should be absolutely scandalized, but after everything that’s happened, everything they've seen and done, disgust is the last thing she’s feeling.

She watches them, mesmerised, wondering how much of this is for her benefit and how much is for theirs. Do they really feel this way toward each other, want one another like this, or is it for show? 

When they break apart and turn toward her there’s no artifice in the arousal in their eyes and she doesn't think they’re faking. They each offer her a hand and she decides she doesn't care, not really. She loves them and wants them and they feel the same way about her, enough to do this for her, despite everything that’s happened in the past. She’s not going to throw that away.

Elena takes their hands, one in each of hers, and lets them lead her toward the bedroom.

***

The next morning she wakes up in bed alone and fears for a horrifying beat that she dreamed the whole thing. That none of it ever happened, or Stefan never came back and they've both left. But then she hears voices in the kitchen and knows they must have just gotten up before her.

She pulls on a robe and pads her way out into the apartment. The scene that greets her stops her, makes her watch on in wonder. Stefan and Damon are in the kitchen, Stefan is sitting at the table with the morning paper spread out before him as Damon, dressed in a pair of Stefan’s pyjama pants, is leaning against the counter. tries to talk him into eating something. Damon is trying unsuccessfully to get Stefan to eat a piece of his orange. They look so happy and domestic and normal. 

In that moment Elena knows, really knows for the first time, that everything is going to be alright. There are going to be rough times ahead, but it’s worth it, for mornings like this.

END


End file.
